The Life of Joan of Arc
By Anatole France
VOLUME 1 CHAPTER 4

THE JOURNEY TO NANCY—THE ITINERARY OF VAUCOULEURS—TO
SAINTE-CATHERINE-DE-FIERBOIS

BY giving his eldest daughter, Isabelle, the heiress of Lorraine, in
marriage to René, the second son of Madame Yolande, Queen of Sicily
and of Jerusalem, and Duchess of Anjou,[423] Duke Charles II of
Lorraine, who was in alliance with the English, had recently done his
cousin and friend, the Duke of Burgundy, a bad turn. René of Anjou,
now in his twentieth year, was a man of culture as much in love with
sound learning as with chivalry, and withal kind, affable, and
gracious. When not engaged in some military expedition and in wielding
the lance he delighted to illuminate manuscripts. He had a taste for
flower-decked gardens and stories in tapestry; and like his fair
cousin the Duke of Orléans he wrote poems in French.[424] Invested
with the duchy of Bar by the Cardinal Duke[Pg i.92] of Bar, his great-uncle,
he would inherit the duchy of Lorraine after the death of Duke Charles
which could not be far off. This marriage was rightly regarded as a
clever stroke on the part of Madame Yolande. But he who reigns must
fight. The Duke of Burgundy, ill content to see a prince of the house
of Anjou, the brother-in-law of Charles of Valois, established between
Burgundy and Flanders, stirred up against René the Count of Vaudémont,
who was a claimant of the inheritance of Lorraine. The Angevin policy
rendered a reconciliation between the Duke of Burgundy and the King of
France difficult. Thus was René of Anjou involved in the quarrels of
his father-in-law of Lorraine. It befell that in this year, 1429, he
was waging war against the citizens of Metz, the War of the Basketful
of Apples.[425] It was so called because the cause of war was a
basketful of apples which had been brought into the town of Metz
without paying duty to the officers of the Duke of Lorraine.[426]

Meanwhile René's mother was sending convoys of victuals from Blois to
the citizens of Orléans, besieged by the English.[427] Although she
was not then on good terms with the counsellors of her son-in-law,
King Charles, she was vigilant in opposing the enemies of the kingdom
when they threatened her own duchy of Anjou. René, Duke of Bar, had
therefore ties of kindred, friendship, and interest binding him at the
same time to the English and Burgundian party as well as to the party
of France. Such was the situation of most of the French nobles. René's
communications with the[Pg i.93] Commander of Vaucouleurs were friendly and
constant.[428] It is possible that Sire Robert may have told him that
he had a damsel at Vaucouleurs who was prophesying concerning the
realm of France. It is possible that the Duke of Bar, curious to see
her, may have had her sent to Nancy, where he was to be towards the
20th of February. But it is much more likely that René of Anjou
thought less about the Maid of Vaucouleurs, whom he had never seen,
than about the little Moor and the jester who enlivened the ducal
palace.[429] In this month of February, 1429, he was neither desirous
nor able to concern himself greatly with the affairs of France; and
although brother-in-law to King Charles, he was preparing not to
succour the town of Orléans, but to besiege the town of Metz.[430]

Old and ill, Duke Charles dwelt in his palace with his paramour Alison
du Mai, a bastard and a priest's daughter, who had driven out the
lawful wife, Dame Marguerite of Bavaria. Dame Marguerite was pious and
high-born, but old and ugly, while Madame Alison was pretty. She had
borne Duke Charles several children.[431]

The following story appears the most authentic. There were certain
worthy persons at Nancy who[Pg i.94] wanted Duke Charles to take back his good
wife. To persuade him to do so they had recourse to the exhortations
of a saint, who had revelations from Heaven, and who called herself
the Daughter of God. By these persons the damsel of Domremy was
represented to the enfeebled old Duke as being a saint who worked
miracles of healing. By their advice he had her summoned in the hope
that she possessed secrets which should alleviate his sufferings and
keep him alive.

As soon as he saw her he asked whether she could not restore him to
his former health and strength.

She replied that "of such things" she knew nothing. But she warned him
that his ways were evil, and that he would not be cured until he had
amended them. She enjoined upon him to send away Alison, his
concubine, and to take back his good wife.[432]

No doubt she had been told to say something of this kind; but it also
came from her own heart, for she loathed bad women.

Jeanne had come to the Duke because it was his due, because a little
saint must not refuse when a great lord wishes to consult her, and
because in short she had been brought to Nancy. But her mind was
elsewhere; of nought could she think but of saving the realm of
France.

Reflecting that Madame Yolande's son with a goodly company of
men-at-arms would be of great aid to the Dauphin, she asked the Duke
of Lorraine, as she took her leave, to send this young knight with her
into France.

"Give me your son," she said, "with men-at-arms[Pg i.95] as my escort. In
return I will pray to God for your restoration to health."

The Duke did not give her men-at-arms; neither did he give her the
Duke of Bar, the heir of Lorraine, the ally of the English, who was
nevertheless to join her soon beneath the standard of King Charles.
But he gave her four francs and a black horse.[433]

Perhaps it was on her return from Nancy that she wrote to her parents
asking their pardon for having left them. The fact that they received
a letter and forgave is all that is known.[434] One cannot forbear
surprise that Jacques d'Arc, all through the month that his daughter
was at Vaucouleurs, should have remained quietly at home, when
previously, after having merely dreamed of her being with men-at-arms,
he had threatened that if his sons did not drown her he would with his
own hands. For he must have been aware that at Vaucouleurs she was
living with men-at-arms. Knowing her temperament, he had displayed
great simplicity in letting her go. One cannot help supposing that
those pious persons who believed in Jeanne's goodness, and desired her
to be taken into France for the saving of the kingdom, must have
undertaken to reassure her father and mother concerning their
daughter's manner of life; perhaps they even gave the simple folk to
understand that if Jeanne did go to the King her family would derive
therefrom honour and advantage.

Before or after her journey to Nancy (which is not known), certain of
the townsfolk of Vaucouleurs who believed in the young prophetess
either had made, or purchased for her ready made, a suit of masculine[Pg i.96]
clothing, a jerkin, cloth doublet, hose laced on to the coat, gaiters,
spurs, a whole equipment of war. Sire Robert gave her a sword.[435]

She had her hair cut round like a boy.[436] Jean de Metz and Bertrand
de Poulengy, with their servants Jean de Honecourt and Julien, were to
accompany her as well as the King's messenger, Colet de Vienne, and
the bowman Richard.[437] There was still some delay and councils were
held, for the soldiers of Antoine de Lorraine, Lord of Joinville,
infested the country. Throughout the land there was nothing but
pillage, robbery, murder, cruel tyranny, the ravishing of women, the
burning of churches and abbeys, and the perpetration of horrible
crimes. Those were the hardest times ever known to man.[438] But the
damsel was not afraid, and said: "In God's name! take me to the gentle
Dauphin, and fear not any trouble or hindrance we may meet."[439]

At length, on a day in February, so it is said, the little company
issued forth from Vaucouleurs by La Porte de France.[440]

A few friends who had followed her so far watched her go. Among them
were her hosts, Henri Leroyer and Catherine, and Messire Jean Colin,
canon of Saint-Nicolas, near Vaucouleurs, to whom Jeanne had confessed
several times.[441] They trembled for their saint as they thought of
the perils of the way and the length of the journey.

"How can you," they asked her, "set forth on such a journey when there
are men-at-arms on every hand?" But out of the serene peace of her
heart she answered them:

"I do not fear men-at-arms; my way has been made plain before me. If
there be men-at-arms my Lord God will make a way for me to go to my
Lord Dauphin. For that am I come."[442]

Sire Robert was present at her departure. According to the customary
formula he took an oath from each of the men-at-arms that they would
surely and safely conduct her whom he confided to them. Then, being a
man of little faith, he said to Jeanne in lieu of farewell: "Go! and
come what may."[443] And the little company went off into the mist,
which at that season envelops the meadows of the Meuse.

They were obliged to avoid frequented roads and[Pg i.98] to beware especially
of passing by Joinville, Montiers-en-Saulx and Sailly, where there
were soldiers of the hostile party. Sire Bertrand and Jean de Metz
were accustomed to such stealthy expeditions; they knew the byways and
were acquainted with useful precautions, such as binding up the
horses' feet in linen so as to deaden the sound of hoofs on the
ground.[444]

At nightfall, having escaped all danger, the company approached the
right bank of the Marne and reached the Abbey of Saint-Urbain.[445]
From time immemorial it had been a place of refuge, and in those days
its abbot was Arnoult of Aulnoy, a kinsman of Robert of
Baudricourt.[446] The gate of the plain edifice opened for the
travellers who passed beneath the groined vaulting of its roof.[447]
The abbey included a building set apart for strangers. There they
found the resting-place of the first stage of their journey.

On the right of the outer door was the abbey church wherein were
preserved the relics of Pope Saint Urbain. On the 24th of February, in
the morning, Jeanne attended conventual mass there.[448] Then she and
her companions took horse again. Crossing the Marne by the bridge
opposite Saint-Urbain, they pressed on towards France.

They had still one hundred and twenty-five leagues to cover and three
rivers to cross, in a country infested with brigands. Through fear of
the enemy they journeyed by night.[449] When they lay down on[Pg i.99] the
straw the damsel, keeping her hose laced to her coat, slept in her
clothes, under a covering, between Jean de Metz and Bertrand de
Poulengy in whom she felt confidence. They said afterwards that they
never desired the damsel because of the holiness they beheld in
her;[450] that may or may not be believed.

Jean de Metz was filled with no such ardent faith in the prophetess,
since he inquired of her: "Will you really do what you say?"

To which she replied: "Have no fear. I do what I am commanded to do.
My brethren in Paradise tell me what I have to do. It is now four or
five years since my brethren in Paradise and Messire told me that I
must go forth to war to deliver the realm of France."[451]

These rude comrades did not all preserve an attitude of religious
respect in her presence. Certain mocked her and diverted themselves by
talking before her as if they belonged to the English party.
Sometimes, as a joke, they got up a false alarm and pretended to turn
back. Their jests were wasted. She believed them, but she was not
afraid, and would say gravely to those who thought to frighten her
with the English: "Be sure not to flee. I tell you in God's name, they
will not harm you."[452]

Ever at the approach of danger whether real or feigned, there came to
her lips the words of encouragement: "Do not be afraid. You will see
how graciously the fair Dauphin will look upon us when we come to
Chinon."[453]

Her greatest grief was that she could not pray in[Pg i.100] church as often as
she would like. Every day she repeated: "If we could, we should do
well to hear mass."[454]

As they avoided high roads they were not often in the way of bridges;
and they were frequently forced to ford rivers in flood. They crossed
the Aube, near Bar-sur-Aube, the Seine near Bar-sur-Seine, the Yonne
opposite Auxerre, where Jeanne heard mass in the church of
Saint-Etienne; then they reached the town of Gien, on the right bank
of the Loire.[455]

At length these Lorrainers beheld a French town loyal to the King of
France. They had travelled seventy-five leagues through the enemy's
country without being attacked or molested. Afterwards this was
considered miraculous. But was it impossible for seven or eight
Armagnac horsemen to traverse English and Burgundian lands without
misadventure? The Commander of Vaucouleurs frequently sent letters to
the Dauphin which reached him, and the Dauphin was in the habit of
despatching messengers to the Commander; Colet de Vienne had just
borne his message.[456]

In point of fact the followers of the Dauphin ran risks well nigh as
great in the provinces under his sway as in lands subject to other
masters.[457]

Freebooters in the pay of King Charles, when they pillaged travellers
and held them to ransom, did not stay to ask whether they were
Armagnacs or Burgundians. Indeed, it was after their passage of the
Loire that Bertrand de Poulengy and his companions found themselves
exposed to the greatest danger.

Informed of their approach, certain men-at-arms of the French party
went before and lay in ambush, waiting to surprise them. They intended
to capture the damsel, cast her into a pit, and keep her there beneath
a great stone, in the hope that the King who had sent for her would
give a large sum for her rescue.[458] It was the custom for
freebooters and mercenaries thus to cast travellers into pits
delivering them on payment of ransom. Eighteen years before, at
Corbeil, five men had been kept in a pit on bread and water by
Burgundians. Three of them died, being unable to pay the ransom.[459]
Such a fate very nearly befell Jeanne. But the wretches who were lying
in wait for her, at the moment when they should have struck did
nothing, wherefore is unknown, perhaps because they were afraid of not
being the stronger.[460]

From Gien, the little company followed the northern boundary of the
duchy of Berry, crossed into Blésois, possibly passed through
Selles-sur-Cher and Saint-Aignan, then, having entered Touraine,
reached[Pg i.102] the green slopes of Fierbois.[461] There one of the two
heavenly ladies, who daily discoursed familiarly with the peasant
girl, had her most famous sanctuary; there it was that Saint Catherine
received multitudes of pilgrims and worked great miracles. According
to popular belief the origin of her worship in this place was warlike
and national and dated back to the beginning of French history. It was
known that after his victory over the Saracens at Poitiers Charles
Martel had placed his sword in the oratory of the Blessed
Catherine.[462] But it must be admitted that since then the sanctuary
had long suffered from desertion and neglect. Rather more than forty
years before the coming of the damsel from Domremy, its walls in the
depths of a wood were overrun by briers and brambles.

In those days it was not uncommon for saints of both sexes, if they
had suffered from some unjust neglect, to come and complain to some
pious person of the wrong being done them on earth. They appeared
possibly to a monk, to a peasant or a citizen, denounced the impiety
of the faithful in terms urgent and sometimes violent, and commanded
him to reinstate their worship and restore their sanctuary. And this
is what Madame Saint Catherine did. In the year 1375 she entrusted a
knight of the neighbourhood of Fierbois, one Jean Godefroy, who was
blind and paralysed, with the restoration of her oratory to its old[Pg i.103]
brilliance and fame, promising to cure him if he would pray for nine
days in the place where Charles Martel had put his sword. Jean
Godefroy had himself carried to the deserted chapel, but beforehand
his servants must perforce hew a way through the thicket with their
axes. Madame Saint Catherine restored to Jean Godefroy the use of his
eyes and his limbs, and it was by this benefit that she recalled to
the people of Touraine the glory they had slighted. The oratory was
repaired; the faithful again wended their way thither, and miracles
abounded. At first the saint healed the sick; then, when the land was
ravaged by war, it was her office more especially to deliver from the
hands of the English such prisoners as had recourse to her. Sometimes
she rendered captives invisible to their guards; sometimes she broke
bonds, chains, and locks; to wit, those of a nobleman by name Cazin du
Boys, who in 1418 was taken with the garrison of Beaumont-sur-Oise.
Locked in an iron cage, bound with a strong rope on which slept a
Burgundian, he thought on Madame Saint Catherine, and dedicated
himself to this glorious virgin. Immediately the cage was opened.
Sometimes she even constrained the English to unchain their prisoners
themselves and set them free without ransom. That was a great miracle.
One no less great was worked by her on Perrot Chapon, of
Saint-Sauveur, near Luzarches. For a month Perrot had been in bonds in
an English prison, when he dedicated himself to Saint Catherine and
fell asleep. He awoke, still bound, in his own house.

Generally she helped those who helped themselves. Such was the case of
Jean Ducoudray, citizen of Saumur, a prisoner in the castle of Bellême
in 1429. He commended his soul devoutly to Saint Catherine,[Pg i.104] then
leapt forth, throttled the guard, climbed the ramparts, dropped the
height of two lances, and went out a free man into the country.[463]

Perhaps these miracles would have been less frequent had the English
been in greater force in France; but their men were few: in Normandy
they intrenched themselves in towns, abandoning the open country to
soldiers of fortune who ranged the district and captured convoys, thus
greatly promoting the intervention of Madame Saint Catherine.[464]

The prisoners, who had become her votaries and whom she had delivered,
discharged their vows by making the pilgrimage to Fierbois. In her
chapel there, they hung the cords and chains with which they had been
bound, their armour, and sometimes, in special cases, the armour of
the enemy.

This had been done nine months before Jeanne's coming to Fierbois by a
certain knight, Jean du Chastel. He had escaped from the hands of a
captain, who accused him of having committed treason thereby, alleging
that du Chastel had given him his word of honour. Du Chastel on the
other hand maintained that he had not sworn, and he challenged the
captain to meet him in single combat. The issue of the combat proved
right to be on the side of the French knight; for with the aid of
Madame Saint Catherine he was victorious. In return he came to
Fierbois to offer to his holy protectress the armour of the vanquished
Englishman, in the presence of my[Pg i.105] Lord, the Bastard of Orléans, of
Captain La Hire and several other nobles.[465]

Jeanne must have delighted to hear tell of such miracles, or others
like them, and to see so many weapons hanging from the chapel walls.
She must have been well pleased that the saint who visited her at all
hours and gave her counsel should so manifestly appear the friend of
poor soldiers and peasants cast into bonds, cages and pits, or hanged
on trees by the Godons.